


Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda

by keelywolfe



Series: Synonyms [1]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Self-Pity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 23:06:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9791174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Schemes never seem to turn out the way Robbie thinks they should; tonight he's tired, aching and bruised, and not sure he can deal with this. Or can he?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Heck, why not? Took some liberties with the clothing on the show because I could. :)

* * *

It ended the way it always ended. Robbie's magnificent plan foiled by that blasted sports fool and a group of meddling kids. Out of the sight of chipper singing and dancing, Robbie stripped off the sad remains of his disguise, letting them fall to the ground like a particularly scrawny tree shedding purple leaves. 

At the edge of the park, Robbie lumbered off the sidewalk to a handy tree and sank down. This particular scheme had not only ruined his costume, it had ended in a nasty fall from a tree that he could grudgingly admit would have been worse if Sportibrat hadn't caught him before he'd hit the ground. Of course, he'd promptly dropped Robbie when he had started shouting and that contact with the hard ground had layered bruises on top of the ones he already had from climbing the tree to begin with. 

Really, it defied all reason. Robbie was brilliant, a genius if he didn't mind saying so himself, (and he didn't) so how that brain-bamboozled load of muscles managed to foil him every time was beyond comprehension. 

The light was going soft and purple, the distant shouts and laughter of children trailing off behind closed doors. Sunlight was fading into dark and Robbie should go home. Should settle into his comfy chair and start plotting for tomorrow or have a nice piece of cake in front of the TV or even curl up and get a head start on his twelve hours of beauty sleep. 

Instead, Robbie drew his knees up and rested his chin on them, watching as the last natural light dimmed away and the street lights blinked on around him. There was a circle of artificial yellow light not ten feet away haloing a bench on the sidewalk, and Robbie couldn't help his dour humor as he considered it. How appropriate that he was sitting just outside the light. 

Today, no, tonight, Robbie was tired and sore and bruised in ego and body. He just wanted to sit alone in the dark and indulge in a little self-pity. Was that too much to ask? 

The startling feel of someone sitting down right next to him told him that it was. 

To his credit, Sportacus didn't say a word. He sat with his legs stretched out in front him and his ankles crossed, leaning back on his arms. Quiet but for the sound of his breathing, none of his normal manic energy gleaning through, and when Robbie risked a look at him out of the corner of his eye, Sportacus seemed to be looking up at the sky. Looking at the stars, maybe, or keeping an eye on that ridiculous airship of his. 

The silence that had been soothing began to grate with every ticking second, Robbie grinding his teeth as he waited for Sportacus to scold or placate or worse, offer yet another useless platitude like the ones he spewed out for the children, like Robbie was simply an overgrown brat who hadn't learned his lesson yet. The wait became unbearable and finally it was Robbie who broke the quiet between them

"I suppose now is when you lecture me to change my ways," Robbie sneered and he hoped that only he heard that edge in his voice, verging just on the brink of breaking. He was tired, blast it, and sore, and bruised, and he didn't want to deal with this, not tonight.

Sportacus said nothing for a long moment and the tension in Robbie's nerves stretched taut. Tired or not, sore or not, in another moment he was going to stagger to his feet and go home, and maybe tomorrow he wouldn't plot or scheme or do anything more than sleep until the ache in his bruises and pride was dulled to something bearable.

"Why would I want you to change?"

Softly, spoken to the air because Sportacus was still looking at the sky and every sharp word that had gathered at the tip of Robbie's tongue shattered away, unspoken. 

"Wha—why would—" Robbie sputtered. That got him sitting up straight, turning to look directly at the mustachioed fool, "Because that's what you do! You want everyone to run and play and be so blasted loud and eat those foul vegetables, that's…you—" He faltered when Sportacus finally looked at him. 

"If that's what you want, you can be that way," Sportacus said agreeably. "But I wouldn't ask that from you."

It was too dark to see the blue of his eyes but to Robbie it was like he could feel the weight of that stare. He shifted, uncomfortably, blurting out, "Why? Why wouldn't you?"

Sportacus offered a little half-shrug. "I like you the way you are." With a little twist, he drew his legs up to sit cross-legged, his knee brushing Robbie's. Sportacus stretched with a little groan, reaching up and tugged off his hat, ruffling his hair as it fell loose. 

Whatever Robbie was intending to say to _that_ little tidbit faded as he stared at the sudden appearance of unexpectedly pointed ears, "You really are an elf."

Sportacus slanted him a wry look. "It's not a secret."

Well, no, not with that accent. Soft, rounded syllables curled around his words whenever he spoke but there was a difference in suspecting and _knowing_ , and it wasn't like Sportacus ever took his hat off, not in Robbie's memory, not even when he was soaking wet or covered in frosting or-- 

He didn't even realize he'd been reaching out until Sportacus caught his hand in a firm grip. Startled, Robbie tried to pull away, babbling out, "Sorry, I'm sorry, I wasn't…"

"You wanted to touch," Sportacus finished. He sounded faintly amused. His hand was warm on Robbie's wrist, not painful but he didn't relent when Robbie tried to tug free again. In the dimness, he could see Sportacus purse his lips, considering, "All right but only if I can touch yours."

That left Robbie dumbfounded. A little suspiciously, he asked, "Why would you want to touch mine?"

"Why would you think your ears aren't as fascinating to me as mine are to you?" Sportacus countered.

Touché.

With a last gentle squeeze, his hand was released, and Robbie didn't hesitate. Just reached right up and boldly traced the curve with one finger. Hardly bigger than a normal human ear, it was only the shape that was unusual, narrowing like a birch leaf into a softly rounded point. Sportacus sighed a little, his breath warm on the inside of Robbie's wrist. He tilted his head into Robbie's hand, pushing into his touch, and it only enhanced Robbie's mental picture of him as an overgrown Labrador retriever. 

Still, he was fascinated by that odd little point, brushing aside soft curls of hair to trace it again. He barely noticed the stroke of a thumb over his own ear until another joined it in the other side, his face cradled into Sportacus's warm palms.

It was like being in a daze and slowly Robbie realized they were very close together in the dimness, both of them cupping the other's face in their hands. Robbie exhaled slowly at the brush of lips against his own. Gentle, soft mouth, only the faintest touch and he could taste the sweetness of apples on Sportacus's breath. 

"I still don't understand," Robbie whispered, their lips still brushing, and he could hear the edge of a desperate whine in his voice, "I've tried a dozen ways, two dozen, just to get you out of Lazytown!"

Oh, blasted heavens, he could feel Sportacus grin as he whispered, "Robbie, you are very clever; if you really wanted me gone, I would be."

This was…this was wrong, this was _strange_ , and intellectually, he knew Sportacus was strong but to feel it, that perfect grace used against him as Robbie suddenly found himself with a lapful of hero. One soft kiss turned into two, turned into something harder, eager, and Robbie choked off a whimper at the feel of a tongue against his own. 

Surely Sportacus had another arm, maybe two. It was the only explanation that made sense. How else could he be holding Robbie's head in both hands, holding him still for those sweet, biting kisses, and still be moving the way he was? Or maybe Robbie was moving him; somehow, his hands had grown a mind of their own and they were clutching at Sportacus's vest, scrabbling at his shirt, only wanting to touch something, hold _something_ , he needed to ground himself, particularly when the real ground seemed so terribly far away. 

His groan of protest was too loud in the darkness as Sportacus finally broke the kiss with a last nip, both of them breathless and Robbie's mouth felt hot and swollen. Words were swarming his brain, words like _why_ and _please_ and _don't stop_ tangling on his abused tongue. Before he could sort them through, Sportacus leaned back enough to tug his shirt and vest over his head in a tangle of cloth, his skin almost a pale glow in the dark. He tossed the mess of it aside and knowing the reverence that Sportacus treated his crystal made his sudden carelessness with it all the more scandalous. They were barely in the shadows and, despite the fact that Lazytown residents weren't prone to wandering at night, it didn't make it less tantalizing.

"Oh, you—" Robbie whispered and he couldn't finish it, he couldn't say that Sportacus was beautiful, not now when all that soft skin was within reach. He could fill his hands with it, draw his fingers down that well-muscled chest and flat belly, trace the fine blond hairs that led to his waistband and feel Sportacus shiver. 

Grass was suddenly soft beneath his shoulders, stars above him and Robbie blinked up at it in dazed surprise. He felt fingers behind his knee, tugging his leg up enough for Sportacus to settle between them. He said something low in a language that Robbie didn't know, almost like a curse, as he sank down on him. 

"Oh, you feel…"

"How do I feel?" Robbie whispered faintly. He didn't expect an answer and didn't get one, closing his eyes at the sensation of Sportacus against him. The slow rock of his hips, dragging the hard length that Robbie could feel against his belly. His own hardness was pressed tight to Sportacus's hip and for once he could appreciate that muscle, the flex and strain in those arms as Sportacus moved over him. 

"Ah, you—" Robbie huffed out, fumbled at his shoulders and down, feeling the shift of Sportacus's hips in his own palms before settling on the curves of his backside, and why not, the world had gone insane, and Robbie didn't want to die without taking his chance to grab that ass. "I want…what do you want?"

"Just this," Sportacus gave pained laugh that dissolved into a moan, "I don't think you're ready for more than this."

That made sharp indignation rise in his chest and Robbie managed to snap out, "I'm ready for anything!"

A soft kiss soothed him, a barely there whisper, "Then maybe I'm not ready."

Maybe, maybe, all the maybes, but Robbie couldn't shake the idea that this was insanity, some fever dream, and if he was only getting this once then he was going to _have_ it. 

Sportacus's belt was hardly a barrier even in the darkness and Robbie fumbling it loose between them. Not that Sportacus was helping, Robbie thought uncharitably; he only shuddered and moaned as Robbie slipped a hand inside, stilling as Robbie gripped him without a hint of his inner hesitance. 

"Wait…" Sportacus gasped, "I need…maybe we should…"

"I don't want to stop," Robbie whispered into that leaf shaped ear and the _sound_ Sportacus made, high and sweet; that was a sound Robbie wanted to hear again. It shouldn't have been a surprise to feel his own belt loosening, his trousers tugged down, because of course, _of course_ Sportacus would be able to focus enough to maneuver around clasps and buttons and fasteners even with a hand on his cock, of course he would, and it was difficult not to appreciate it when they were suddenly pressed together, bare and hot and hard, and Robbie's breath hissed between his gritted teeth at the feel of it. 

Again, the quick snap of hips against his own only this time they were held together in one strong hand, and Robbie couldn't focus on anything but that, on pushing up into Sportacus's grip. He could hear the snap and pop of grass being torn from the ground next to his head where Sportacus was braced over him and the sudden wet bloom of warmth made him gasp aloud. Sportacus was coming between them, coming _on_ him and that was enough to tip him over, choking on his own moan. The stars wavered, exploded into supernovas and Robbie collapsed back on the grass, shaking and whimpering, lost in bliss. 

He came back to himself at the feel of cool wetness wiping his belly, gently cleaning him. A wet wipe?

"You always seem to have what you need," Robbie grouched wearily. "How do you do that?"

"Magic," Sportacus said promptly, balling it up and tossing it in a trash can without looking like the show off that he was.

Wait, what?

"Really?" Robbie squeaked.

He leaned in a brushed a soft kiss against Robbie's bruised lips, "No."

Abruptly, he realized that Sportacus was already button up and belted, with nothing more than the tousle of his hair to reveal what had just happened while he was still sprawled and rumpled. A rush of discomfort swamped him and he struggled to tug up his pants, batting away Sportacus when he tried to help. Dourly, he wondered how much Sportacus could see, did elves see differently? Given his bedtime they didn't exactly seem to be creatures of the night. 

"Come on," Sportacus gave him a gentle nudge. "I'll take you home."

"I can't move," Robbie groaned. "I'll sleep here." Just then even that bench with its comforting halo of light seemed too far away. 

Another nudge, this one a little harder, "You'll get cold and wake up wet from dew," Sportacus predicted, "Come on."

Even in the afterglow he was relentless, Robbie lamented, and there wasn't much he could do to stop Sportacus from pulling him to his feet aside from going boneless and letting Sportacus drag him through the streets like a cat on a leash. Or worse, Sportacus would probably carry him and the thought of that humiliation was enough to get his feet shuffling.

Once Robbie got upright, Sportacus simply kept his hand, twining their fingers together, and Robbie just...let him. He could concede that much couldn't he? They walked in silence, made their way to the hatch past the billboard. There at the hatch, Robbie finally fumbled for words; there should be _something_ to say. Before he could manage it, Sportacus hooked a finger into his collar, tugging him down the few inches he needed to steal a kiss. It was difficult not to melt into it, sink his hands into silky curls and just sag against him, trusting Sportacus to keep them both upright. Difficult but not impossible; particularly when Robbie got a sharp, teasing nip to his already sore tongue for his troubles. 

He jerked back, scrambling to the ladder and tried to ignore the wicked curl of an elf's smile that could be seen even in the darkness. 

"This doesn't change anything," Robbie sputtered out, already halfway through the hatch, "It doesn't! Tomorrow, I'll have another plan, you'll see!"

Sportacus's grin softened and he leaned down to press a kiss against Robbie's forehead. "I told you, I don't need you to change."

He turned on his heel and left without another word, and Robbie watched him go, something tight and nameless thick in his chest. All his exhaustion and soreness that had been briefly forgotten came tumbling back and he only just managed to close the hatch and slink to his chair, settling into the bright orange fur of it. 

"Doesn't need me to change," Robbie muttered resentfully. He tugged a blanket over himself and tucked his head down to his chest. Briefly, he caught a whiff of apples, as if Sportacus had somehow embedded his scent into him. It was aggravating, almost a violation of his person and if Robbie tugged his shirt up to his nose and took a deep lungful of appley sweetness there was no one there to see it. 

Tomorrow there would be plans, plots and schemes, tomorrow this insanity would be past and they'd be back to the status quo, Robbie decided firmly. Tomorrow things would be back to normal. For tonight, he curled up in his chair, breathing in apples, and he dreamed of pointed ears and soft kisses, and a voice telling him that he was liked just as he was. 

-finis-


End file.
